


A Million Splendid Suns

by angeldescendant



Series: crouching bunny, hidden lynx [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Banana Fish Angst Week 2019, Dark Eiji, Gen, GoL alternate-verse, Grief/Mourning, Okumura Eiji Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeldescendant/pseuds/angeldescendant
Summary: Eiji becomes the boss of Ash's gang. Things won't ever be the same.“He told me there was a field. Then there was a sun. Its name was Eiji.” His smile’s worn around the edges. He kneels down the arid ground. Ash’s gravestone looks so small. “I beg to differ.” They need to taste the salt in every syllable. “He is the sun. He’ll continue to rise and set as long as I breathe.”





	A Million Splendid Suns

**Author's Note:**

> For BF Angst Week Day 5: Blood/guns
> 
> Prequel to [Fields Beyond Fields](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886577)
> 
> I think the best summary for this fic is this quote by Joseph Stalin after the death of his wife:  
> “This creature softened my heart of stone. She died and with her died my last warm feelings for humanity.”

_you talk about healing like it's some mystical thing with scented candles. but healing is a dirty business, like digging up dead bodies. and they're not even all your bodies._

**[link](https://66.media.tumblr.com/8d903106dd39f6147123db5acc92588b/tumblr_peeydcD7Eh1qc94oqo1_640.png) **

* * *

Ibe accompanies him during the wake.

It's a quiet affair with none of the pomp prevalent during his father’s funeral. None of the flower boats, the rituals, the chants. They hold it at the Wongs’ flat. The other choice is back at Max’s place in California.

Most of his henchmen take turns in keeping watch. Eiji learns to play cards and mah-jong with people who try to offer their condolences. He’s never really good at small talk. Words are too precious to waste in that dimly-lit place.

Sing never leaves his casket. He becomes the smallest pallbearer during the burial too.

Up until he's six feet under, Eiji never catches sight of the dead man’s face. _I must stay calm,_ he says to himself as he stares up at the dead, grey sky. The rest are waiting down the hill. _This is reality._

It begins to snow.

\--

Eiji waits for Ibe to leave. He lets his former mentor console him, offering advice on moving on.  He keeps smiling until he forgets how to stop.

There is no 7th or 49th day. No _obon_. He dislikes observing them. Tradition strips away grief into something intangible, an amorphous stranger clocking you in to mourn. How easy it is to compartmentalize grief. It’s the same with his dead father.

Eiji inhales.

 _His_ men surrounds him like a flock of birds. It reminds him of Central Park, of how both Eiji and he would toss leftover rye or wheat bread that they couldn’t finish. They have no fear in approaching people, as his pecked hands will attest.

“I want a swift answer.” He doesn’t use the word _need._ It’s an expression of weakness. That time has passed when they covered him under frozen earth. “Who stabbed Ash that day?”

He will pry that damn letter from Sing’s hands. He listens as they shakily utter a name.

He doesn’t look at them as he talks. “Ash is dead.” He doesn’t flinch. _It happened._ He cannot take it back. “I want you to choose: You can leave this cursed life by going down the stairs and not showing your faces to me again. If you want to go through this hell with me then come on up. I’ll give you five minutes.”

He quickly ascends the stairs because he can no longer look at their faces. The sun is setting. He bundles his face as the wind begins blowing. It still dazzles him. That dying speck of light seems so faraway now.

Ten minutes pass and he keeps watching the sun alone.

A part of him is grateful that they made the right decision to handle their loss. He exhales just to see his breath.

“Hey,” he hears Alex say as he feels something warm covering his body. “It’s freezing out here. Ash will kill us if you catch a cold!” It was that green parka he nicked from _his_ wardrobe.

He turns and sees their worried faces, holding mugs and Chinese takeout. Kong’s hands were preoccupied with two massive thermos bottles.

“Sorry we’re late,” Alex scratches his head, grinning in embarrassment. “The food was taking too long. Plus someone over here forgot how to brew…”

“Fuck you! Not like we always hang out at Starbucks!” Bones stuck out his tongue.

Eiji blinks again. Not a single one of the bastards is missing. His eyes begin to sting. He sneezes.

“Here ya go! Jesus, Bones fetch me a cup. We can’t have the boss getting a cold on his first day.”

His men are really as knuckle-headed and as overprotective as their damn leader. Eiji wipes his eyes.

“A toast then,” Alex says. A mug is raised, then another, and another. “To our new boss and the hell he’s going to raise.”

“It’s my predecessor’s fault,” Eiji pouts. “He’s a goddamn bad influence on us all.”

“Damn straight!” Kong says as they clink their glasses.

“Fuck you Ash!” Eiji is sober. He’s drinking coffee, dammit.

“You broke my teeth!” Bones wails.

“Nicked our skin!”

“Buys us cheap beer!”

“Forces us to fight the Mafia!”

“Always gets himself injured,” Alex says as he gulps more coffee. “Always blindly trusting us and taking the bullet for it.”

“Damn reckless!” Bones says. “Damn hard on himself, even until the end…”

No one spoke. Kong offers more coffee as he looks at Eiji. “Taking us in, even when we’re not as strong as you are.”

“Or as brave,” one of the men wipes his eyes.

“Or as useful,” Bones snivels.

“Or as capable of loving you back, like our current boss could,” Alex’s voice breaks.

No one completely breaks down. They’re full of pride like their former boss. So Eiji embraces each and every one of them. They have lost someone to live for.

If so, Eiji tells himself, it’s now his turn to give back for the lives they were offering. _How heavy,_ he says to the sky as he looks at the sorrow in their faces as they slurp their black coffee and noodles. At the Smith & Wesson he was holding. _You were carrying this by yourself, you selfish bastard?_

“I’ll teach you how to love Ash then as I had,” he says. _He_ is proud of his men for a reason, even in death. “I’ll teach you a love worth killing for.”

\--

Black Sabbath is the first to hear the news when Eiji knocks nervously on their abode. Cain doesn’t hesitate in enveloping him in a bear hug that nearly crushed his joints the moment their eyes meet.

“It ain’t gonna be easy filling that power vacuum,” Cain explains as he notes of the multiple gangs that set up their turf following Ash’s demise. “Many of these mofos Ash subjugated.  You’s biting more than you can chew.”

“So what will it be then?” Eiji says softly. “Will join me or just watch?”

“I only joined Ash’s cause because the Corsican mofos was taking it too far, yo,” Cain interjects. “This ain’t like that. They ain’t done jack shit.”

“So what will it be then?” Eiji repeats in the same mild-mannered tone. “I’ve come to collect the bill, Mr. Cain. Pay Ash what you owe.”

“You’s be careful,” Cain says. The men rises and surround Cain, hands fingering the pistols in their pockets. “Fifty lives in this room ain’t worth a dead man.”

Eiji only raises Ash’s pistol, still on his seat at Cain’s direction and ripples everyone to stare at Cain. It even surprises Eiji. No one raises a weapon to intimidate him.

“I’ve been a good judge of character, Mr Cain,” Eiji says then. “You hate having debts, especially to a dead man.”

Cain stares as his mouth curls. He never sees Cain without his sunglasses. Shorter’s also like that. Maybe all gang bosses are like that.

He wonders more why Ash refused to wear one. Maybe because he didn’t have any discernible scars. Maybe he was full of himself. They say he was gorgeous, even in death.

Eiji smiles back. In the end, maybe it’s because Ash never needed to hide his fears. He cocks the gun. “You didn’t disarm me. Shows you’re not a bad person, Mr. Cain.”

“Can I ask you a question first then, Eiji Okumura?” he says then. His shoulders relax and he affixes himself more at the gun than at the holder himself. “You ever killed a person?”

Eiji shakes his head. He wants to laugh as he feels a sense of déjà vu.

“Alright then, you stubborn rabbit,” Cain says. “You’s have my word.”

Several months later, they will talk about the incident after Eiji kills a person for the first time: A gang chump from the lower East side. Eiji will ask what went through Cain’s head for joining him when he can barely shoot straight. Cain must be aware of this. _The face betrays you_ , Cain will say. _Take notes from your ex-boss_.

“Was looking at your hands,” he will add, tone less playful. “They weren’t shaking.”

\--

A storm is brewing in New York.

In response, Eiji seeks refuge under the palms, at the dazzling beach of one of the cays in Exuma, at the sea pigs coming to shore.

He takes a sip from his mojito and nearly retches at the taste. He still cannot stomach alcohol.

“Perhaps I should make another one for you?” A familiar figure says, sitting beside Eiji.

Eiji looks at his drink sheepishly. “I’m a lightweight, sorry, uhm, it’s not really…” He twirls his glass.

“You haven’t tried swimming? You can’t have wasted your cash just to see me.”

He’s a nice man, Eiji tells himself. “Didn’t think you’d come when I asked. Thank you, Blanca-san. Don’t worry about the fees. Ash already took care of it.”

“At least I know Monsieur’s money is being put to good use,” Blanca says, leaning back on the other folding chair he brought. Both their gazes are affixed at the swimming pigs and the bikini-clad girls tagging along. “And my condolences,” he raises his glass, clinking with Eiji’s before taking a sip. “I thought I’d die ahead of him.”

“Liar,” Eiji interjects, his cold eyes still looking on ahead. The sun appears dim even here in the goddamn Bahamas. “Your actions betray you, Blanca-san.”

Blanca says nothing. Eiji, in turn, takes a sip.

“You must have an idea why I’m here, Blanca-san.”

“You don’t need my permission.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he says and closes his eyes. “I came to pay you for your tutelage. Whatever that fucker paid you for Ash’s, I’ll pay ten times as much.”

It takes several seconds for Blanca to respond. “I won’t be able to convince you to stop, will I, little bunny?”

“You can still turn down my offer. I haven’t paid you yet.”

“I swore an oath that Ash will be my only student.”

“That makes it easier then. I only need you to answer one question, Blanca-san,” Eiji says as he lowers his glass carefully in the sand. Up ahead, he sees a man with wisps of gold crowning his head. Eiji then turns at Blanca’s direction and smiles. “How do you properly skin a snake?”

\--

The last time he sees Blanca is the night before he leaves for good. They are in a bar in the Great Exuma. It’s Eiji’s third glass of Ardbeg.

“I’ve read some Hemingway,” Eiji slurs. “Islands in the Stream was the only novel Ash kept in his flat. You gave it to him, didn’t you?”

“You are a perceptive one.”

“Of course. I’m the maid,” he laughs. “His mood changed after that time. Then you shot me.”

“I’m sorry. It was meant to nick you,” Blanca says before sipping the glass. “I told Ash to read it when he grew up a little. I don’t think he ever finished it.”

“I have,” Eiji says as he looks down at his red Chucks. He then looks at the bottles lined at the counter. At the lightbulbs above them. It still looks so dim to him. “I’ve also read some of his short stories. His novels are difficult even when it reads so simple.” He takes a long draught. “I like his short stories more.”

“Ash’s favourite was The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” Blanca chuckles.

“I hated it,” Eiji titters. “Too relatable.”

Eiji likes Blanca’s eyes. They illuminate both hesitation and warmth. “What did you like then?”

“A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, like this one,” Eiji says before draining his glass. His eyes become cold again. He remembers the last two lines of that short story and dreads returning to his hotel room once more.

_After all, he said to himself, it’s probably only insomnia. Many must have it._

\--

Eiji has dreams. They promise pasts and alternate futures. All indulge him. They disgust him. He wakes up wrongly when they happen, face shining with sweat under the watchful gaze of New York’s lights.

He is always there.

Sometimes he will linger in the bathroom far too long, his stomach unable to stand it. There are times he will cry and stare at his pistol far too much. This makes him ask for one, two, multiple cigarettes when either Bones or Kong checks up on him any moment they hear a single sob.

Ash never feared dying.

Eiji will too, as long as he knows it coming. So he asks for another stick.

\--

Ash is everywhere. He is resting by the windowsill. His head bobs along the numerous people along Times Square. He is in front of Eiji as he walks accompanied by Alex and the rest.

There are times he sits beside Eiji in the museum benches while Eiji stares at paintings that evoke nothing to him.

It doesn’t make Eiji unhappy, looking at his face. He is grateful. He teaches him to try lying to himself and succeed in doing so.

“You’re not him,” Eiji says to this Ash one night as he perches once more at the windowsill of his bedroom in Greenwich Village. He isn’t the Ash he knows. He’s the Ash he wants. “You smile too much.”

Ash’s grin grows wider.

\--

It is Alex who teaches Eiji how to shoot.

It is Cain who teaches Eiji how to fight and draw blood.

It is Eiji who teaches Eiji how to fucking grit his teeth and endure.

It is Eiji who ends up leading Ash’s men to hell alongside him as they begin toppling each resisting gang one by one. If they surrender, he welcomes them with bowls of soup and a set of blankets.

The first time they plot an ambush, Eiji prepares bowls of rice, _miso-suru_ , and sliced beef at their return.

Three meals are left untouched. Eiji looks at Alex then. “Three haven’t come home?”

Alex chokes on his rice.

“You don’t have to answer.” Not everyone will stay until the end of the act. He looks for a buoyant bowl and asks for an extra candle. “After tidying up, let’s go to the Hudson.”

At the edge, Eiji lights the candle and lets the wax drip to the middle of the bowl. He secures it. “We don’t have a paper lantern so we’ll make do with this.”

“Uh, Ei- uhm Boss- what are you-“

“We’re going to send them off,” Eiji says. “Who was with them last?” He asks for their names. Two people behind Bones tentatively raise their hands. “Can you do the honours for us?”

Funny. He thought that one of them will protest, but all of his men huddles close as these two holds the small bowl and lets it float up to the port, only to topple because of the current.

Eiji laughs. All of them look at him quizzically before breaking down at the sight of his tears.

\--

There will always be men to lose as he wrests the tiny pockets of Manhattan under his control. Almost every week there will be tiny fires floating down the Hudson. Eiji learns how to elude the police when they give their respects. He learns and relearns their stories, tries to understand what brought them into this cycle of violence. They have better reasons than Eiji to rebel. There are rejections and hatred and lack of homes to return to.

Their stories are vastly different from his. That’s one of the possible reasons why they look down on him the first time.

“You’re not Ash Lynx,” one says to him as Eiji and the rest, generously spraying his face with spit. “You’re just an Asian faggot who knows shit about this world! Yer just a fuckin’ coward who can’t accept tha’ he gone.” The man then earns a shot in the face from Bones.

“I could do it myself,” Eiji reprimands him as the dead clatters to the floor. He stares at the body that fell on his back and is now gurgling blood, eyes protruding in utter horror.

He prefers this kind of death. That sudden awareness of one’s mortality. Cockiness being replaced by epiphany. It’s easier to swallow.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s already in front of either victorious or broken men whose wrists were tied behind their backs.

He doesn’t look at their faces. Compassion is such a fickle word.

“Your boss did not want to acknowledge me,” Eiji says. “That’s why you are on your knees.” _As each of you should be, for not joining Ash’s fight._ “You did not come with my predecessor to fight alongside him, so I implore you to fight alongside me.”

“Word on the street is yer planning to off the head honcho of the Lee group.”

“Can’t have that kind of scale from that damn Lynx happening again-“

Eiji timed two perfect bullets to their foreheads before the second bastard can finish.

“If you don’t there will be consequences,” he continues by turning away. How easy it is to take a human life with this gun. He understands a little why emotions were robbed from him every time he pulls a trigger.

At the other end of the room, Ash grins accusingly.

\--

The door tinkles and Eiji thinks initially that people will come and ambush him the moment he enters Chang Dai. He gets a table on the far end near the counter and receives his meal without incident.

Like the food he cooks for his men, they taste like sand. Nadia asks him how the food is, but he knows he is asking him of something else.

He tells her it’s ok and orders pork and shrimp and ignores the watchful gaze of the other men surrounding him. He knows they aren’t customers, but he doesn’t make a fuss about it as he shovels more food in his mouth.

Sing arrives at his second piece of dumpling. He has grown several inches since the funeral. Eiji smiles and embraces him when they meet.

“It’s good to see you, Eiji,” Sing says. Even his voice has dropped by several octaves. Eiji repeats his words. Sing refuses a menu and takes out the envelope ridden with brown stains. He then looks at the table before shifting his gaze back at Eiji. “Can I request something, uhm, in exchange for, uh-“ he swallows before continuing. “Will you uhm, back down?”

“You’re not my enemy, Sing,” Eiji says affably. “Not yet. That’s why I went willingly without back up.”

“Yes…” Sing looks to his left and rubs his nape. His eyes were unfocused. He has been building up his body to compensate for his growth spurt. Eiji knows he cannot take on Sing by himself.

Sing must think the same way. Guilt is enough of a handicap.

“Your half-brother killed him,” Eiji says, no longer mincing words. “I do not hold it against you. That’s why I’ve left your turf untouched.”

Sing gets an extra teacup from Nadia. Eiji pours him oolong.

“I, however, advise you to not get in my way,” he says. “Truthfully, I do not need that letter. I have grown tired of being miserable.”

Sing bites his lower lip. “You’ve changed.”

“I don’t deny it,” Eiji sips his tea slowly, eyes affix at the brown liquid. “Ash completely fucked me up.”

His little friend, massive now, can still barely look in his eyes. “I can’t help you take them down. I owe him a great deal for saving Chinatown.”

“You’re starting to sound like Shorter,” Eiji says. “The people in power have it easy, don’t they? They don’t need to struggle as hard as we can.” _As he had._

“That’s true,” Sing’s eyes turn once more at the table. “But Yue has seen hell too. He’s not as much of a brat as you point him out to be. He can still be saved.”

“So you do not deny then that _he_ was the one who orchestrated the whole thing? The one who manipulated your weak-willed brother to do it?” Eiji asks pleasantly. He chuckles when he sees Sing’s eyes grow wide. “Thank you for confirming my suspicions. I can abandon any compassion I have left.”

“Eiji please-“

“I was confident with my ability to judge character. I always thought that everyone is a victim of circumstance, that there is some good in them to be salvaged,” Eiji tunes him out. It is about time they fucking listen. “You know what I found out? I don’t have the right to do the saving for them. They can do it themselves.”

He imagines Ash again, oversleeping in the library. It is easy to pin the blame on the living. There is still room for one to grow within that confines and much easier to fill them with malice.

“I tell people that I have a hand at reading people, but I don’t. If it was true, I wouldn’t have thought twice about pulling the trigger on him that night. I wouldn’t have left New York even if it left me a cripple.”

He now understands why he feels _nada_ even after seeing the anguish on Sing’s face. It’s all too easy when you have nothing left to lose.

\--

One of the factors that makes a memorable photograph, Eiji has learned from Ibe, is about light and the way we remember light.

The world is being bathed in a milky red sunrise. He motions for Alex and his men to hoist up their prisoners up as much as their knees can force them to. Eiji raises the gun and lets the cool metal imprint on its first victim’s forehead. His slanted eyes are now glistening. It’s that universal fear again. Eiji tries to soothe him by talking about the only good dream he has lately. Ash talks to him with that familiar and comforting sombre expression he wears so damn well.

“He told me there was a field. Then there was a sun. Its name was Eiji.” His smile’s worn around the edges. He kneels down the arid ground. Ash’s gravestone looks so small just behind Bones. “I beg to differ.” They need to taste the salt in every syllable. “He is the sun. He’ll continue to rise and set as long as I breathe.” He blows his victim’s brains off and lets his body fall like the goddamn marionette he was of the Lee’s. He pulls the trigger on the second one before anyone can react. Another follows suit. Eiji doesn’t stop.

He understands now why the world seems so dark and the colour red seems so cold. He laughs when he finishes. He really is not cut out to be a photographer.

He smiles back at the Ash beside Kong.

\--

It is all a blur in the end. He has lost track of time when they do erode the Lee’s, forcing some to disappear, rattling Sing to visit him on most nights.

He welcomes him with a cup of tea and forbids him to talk about anything else.

He ends up relocating, however, when the window gets broken in while he is garrotting another enemy that bone-white afternoon. He doesn’t feel bad for shunning Sing.

_He did not lose Shorter the way he lost Ash. Shorter, Lao even, never had the time to choose._

_You did_ , Eiji turns his head at the Ash in front of him. _You selfish bastard._ He repeats that epithet again and again, becoming a lullaby for him as the weeks pass and they begin closing in.

\--

Eiji ends up having the Lee head to himself without much help. He enters their abode alone, slipping in with the rest, wearing similar robes as Eiji’s men from all sides flank the estate, killing whatever moving thing they see.

He locks the door quietly as he looks at a Yut Lung who doesn’t bother to even braid his hair properly. Three bottles of 40-year-old Dalmore lie empty in front of him. He looks at Eiji hungrily.

“You look pitiful,” Eiji nods as he briskly walks towards him, raising the pistol at his direction. “But not pitiful enough for me to kill you straight away.” He shoots his outstretched left hand and waits for him to scream.

\--

A few days later after throwing that man’s severed limbs at the banks, he calls Charlie.

“It’s Eiji,” his heavily-lidded eyes crinkle as Charlie asks him his current state and comments about marrying Nadia in a few months’ time. “Oh, congratulations! Hope you’ll have a baby soon. You can tell Ibe-san to be the godfather. Yes, yes.” He smiles again. “Yes, I would like to turn myself in,” Eiji says. “Yes, I’m not pulling a fast one on you, Charlie-san. I murdered Lee Yut Lung. Yes, can we meet outside the library if that’s alright? I actually… if it’s alright, can I request you to accompany me somewhere? Yes…” he bit his lip until he can taste the rust pooling in his teeth. “Thank you Charlie-san. See you in thirty minutes.”

He grabs a taxi. The driver is sleepy. Eiji hands him some candy he nicked from Yut Lung’s office. “Haven’t really eaten anything tonight,” the driver thanks him.

“Hope you rest then after my stop,” he says. He’ll give an extra tip later.

The driver looks at him from his dashboard mirror. “Same to you, kid. You look peaky.”

He’s right. Eiji is tired. Still he smiles. “Thank you. I will, once this night is over.”

\--

Eiji has a good dream for the first time at the subway. He wakes up to see Ash beside him, his right shoulder catching Eiji’s head.

He rests undisturbed until his stop.

 

\--

The night looks bright.

He buys hot dogs before crossing the street towards the library. It’s still well-lit even at night, as imposing and as solemn. He looks at one of the lions on the entrance, at their proud empty stares. He remembers calling Alex and the rest, telling them to take care of themselves, sharing nothing else but good fortune and success as they try living better lives.

There is no Ash anywhere. Eiji is alone outside, unnoticed by people walking past. The hotdog is hot in his mouth.

Neither trepidation nor fear accompanies him. Eiji keeps chewing at his tasteless hotdog, hearing the loud wail of sirens in the distance, wondering if after this he can relive that dream earlier. The moon looks beautiful tonight.

He waits for the police lights and the final curtain to fall.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/angeldescndnt) and [tumblr](https://treesha-san.tumblr.com/)


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